


It Surely Is A Crime

by callmecaramleh



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Halloween, M/M, Party, Slow Burn, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmecaramleh/pseuds/callmecaramleh
Summary: Hux meets a cute guy dressed as Hamlet at Phasma’s Halloween party. What he thinks might be the only time he ever sees the guy turns into many run ins with Ben Solo.





	1. Chapter 1

Hux didn’t _hate_ parties. He liked getting drunk perhaps a little too much, and he didn’t mind the music Phasma picked out. He just hated that she would always ditch him after the first five minutes, leaving him stranded alone on the couch where he would cuddle his phone and try very hard not to text the ex boyfriend. But here he was, stepping into Phasma’s house, Kroger bags full of the hard sodas because he hated the taste of beer, dressed all in black, though tighter and with more leather than usual.

“Hux, you’re here! Could you — you’re not in costume,” Phasma said, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room. She was dressed in a short black dress, black wings, with feathers sticking out of her hair. _The Raven_. Hux had been around when she was making the wings, and ended up doing most of the work when she had a meltdown that they wouldn’t turn out and claimed he was craftier than her.

“Black widow.”

“Just because you’re a redhead doesn’t mean you can just throw on all black and call yourself a superhero.”

“Oh come on Phasma, I spent approximately twenty minutes getting into these jeans just so I could have the true superhero arse.”

Phasma huffed. “Fine, just go drop those in the kitchen and go hang some fake cobwebs outside.”

“You need Halloween atmosphere for when you go have a cigarette by yourself?” Hux asked, but began the task anyway.

“Just because you don’t smoke doesn’t mean everyone at the party is going to be so stuffy.”

***

People had started arriving—Phasma’s friends or friends of friends, or occasionally work colleagues. They both worked Teleteam, calling high schoolers and trying to bribe them to go their university with small classroom sizes and free T-shirts. Hux didn’t talk to anyone there except Phasma, who sat beside him, but she had been known to dabble in small talk with the others.

The amount of people in the House was a tad overwhelming. It was a small house, shared by Phasma and her cousins, PJ and Finn, both of whom were incredibly annoying and always talked through movies. The current amount of people stuffed into it made the air stuffy, and drinks spilled on the living room floor made every step stick. Hux, therefore, was in his usual spot on the couch, phone plugged into the outlet, holding a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade while a second bottle of Hard orange soda sat on the table next to him. They were both his. He didn’t know when he got two, but at the pace he was going it didn’t seem like much of a problem.

His couch cushion jumped like a teeter totter when someone sat down next to him. Hux turned, seeing a rather broad man in a ruffley white shirt, long dark hair sticking to his face.

“Hey, we’re gonna play kings. You wanna play?”

“No thanks Shakespeare,” Hux answered.

“Actually it’s Hamlet,” the man said, holding up a fake skull, probably from Target, “I brought Yorick and everything.”

“Clever.” Hux was a literature major, and a British one at that. He had to appreciate the detail.

“Clever enough to get you to play?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Ok, how about this. If I guess your favorite Shakespeare play, you have to join the game, but if you guess mine, you don’t.”

“And what if neither of us guesses correctly?”

“Then I suppose you’ll be stuck talking to me the rest night.”

Hux sighed, pulling his feet up onto the couch and settling in. He was at least confident in his knowledge of Shakespeare, and it would certainly distract him from that desire to text Mitaka that was already starting to intrude on his thoughts.

“Fine, your guess first,” he complied.

“Macbeth,” the boy replied, seeming confident.

“You’re lucky we’re not in a theatre. The ceiling could have come crumpling down,” Hux replied, “And no.”

“What? Come one, you totally look like a Macbeth fan. You have lady Macbeth written all over you.”

“No, _you_ look like a lover of that Scottish play, what with the long hair and all. I personally find it rushed and predictable.”

“You like something longer?” The boy was smirking, actually smirking, like something from a ya novel.

“Oh grow up. You’re probably into, what, Romeo and Juliet? Probably haven’t actually read much Shakespeare, and like the whole star crossed lovers thing.”

“Bzz, wrong. While I did make a mighty fine Tybalt back in high school, it is definitely not my favorite.”

It was easy to imagine this guy in a terrible high school production. He would have been lanky, terrible eyeliner and orangey foundation done by some girl who had a crush on him, his height probably actually terrifying whichever poor sod had to play Benvolio.

“Because you’re bitter you weren’t Romeo?”

“Oh god’s no. Being dead by act three meant I got to go hide in the dressing rooms with Mercutio and ‘practice making out’. Theoretically he was Romeos understudy, so we had to be prepared.”

Hux couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t want to to give this Hamlet/Tybalt the satisfaction, but he was too tipsy to try and cover it up.

Guessing Shakespeare ended up being much more difficult than he had originally thought. The scope of Shakespeare’s work made it much more difficult, and at one point he thought maybe this guy was messing with him, had picked a sonnet instead of a play or something. And then it hit him.

“ _Twelfth Night_? Are you kidding me? Out of all the wonderful, complicated things Shakespeare has written, you go with Twelfth Night?”

“What can I say?” the boy answered, running his hand through his hair, sweeping it all to one side, “I just love Amanda Bynes.”

Hux quirked an eyebrow, not dignifying that with a verbal response.

“What? Some kind of Kenneth Branagh purist that doesn’t watch things as low as She’s The Man?”

“I’ve seen it. It wasn’t great. Didn’t even start to reach Leo DiCaprio levels of ridiculous yet also incredible.”

Somehow, the boys arm had gotten around Hux’ shoulders. Had it been there the whole time? Looking at the two empty bottles in front of him, he knew that he could no longer be sure. It was mostly awkward. Hux hadn’t had enough alcohol to do the drunken lean, leaving at least six inches of empty arm space hanging between them. Hux noted that the guy must have had long limbs for them to stretch that way, and good resolve if he was going to keep his arm there.

“Ok, fine, but come on, spill. What’s your favorite?” The boy was leaning over to ask, shouting it in his ear the way people sometimes had to at parties. Hux knew he wasn’t doing it out of necessity, but the boy kept his distance just enough to appease Hux.

“Henry V,” he said firmly.

“Seriously? Historical? Out of all the crazy things from Shakespeare’s imagination, you go with a historical one?”

“It has a good duality to it,” Hux mumbled, not liking to be criticized. He was right, anyway. Henry the fifth was the best Shakespeare, and certainly the best Kenneth Branagh.

“What do you mean?” the boy asked, trying to swing his head around enough to make direct eye contact with Hux. It was imposing.

“Oh don’t get him started,” came Phasma’s voice from above them, “He could drone on and on about duality in Shakespeare for days without even thinking about eating. Now come on,” she pulled Hux forcibly off of the couch, “We’re doing shots.”

After the shots things proceeded more normally for a party. Hux, pretending to drink water and dumping it out when no one was looking. Hux, perching on a chair in a way that made everyone nervous, eating Finn’s good bread that he had hidden in vain. Hux, going back to the couch to find his phone taken, presumably by Phasma to ensure no drunken texts.

When he couldn’t find her in the house, he stumbled his way outside. She was smoking a cigarette, as usual, with Rey standing shivering beside her. He didn’t understand the two of them as a couple, to which Phasma always reminded him that they weren’t dating.

What was new to the normal outside-the-party scene was Shakespeare, up against the side of the detached garage, lips seemingly permanently attached to those of one Brwany Paper Towel Man.

“Phasma, give me my phone,” Hux demanded, averting his eyes from the snogging session.

“No way, not after last time. You—“

“It’s fine, I’m just going to call an uber and go home,” Hux reasoned.

“I thought you were going to stay over?” Phasma asked.

“I’m tired and there’s too many people here still. It’s fine. I’m just going to go home, wash my face, and fall into bed.” Drunk Hux was better with skincare than the sober version of himself.

“Ok, but I’m calling for you.”

***

As he waited on the front step of the house for his driver—some guy called Poe, which Phasma had been excited about—he was hit with the overwhelming stupidity of his jealousy. The cold air did him at least a little good in beginning the sobering process.

He hadn’t even really been flirting with Shakespeare boy. Just talking. Yet for Hux, that was a lot more than what he normally preferred. He would let himself be bothered by Phasma, or Rey, or even Finn, but never a stranger. Couldn’t Shakespeare see that Hux allowing him into his space, his conversation, letting his arm even rest on his shoulder, was something rare? Hux wanted to walk back into the party and shout “Hey stupid long hair dude, I might not have _said_ take me up to Phasma’s room and kiss me against her door, but I sure think that would be a good idea after maybe like three dates or something,” but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Knew that that was silly, too demanding.

Hux knew, logically, that parties were for quick snogging sessions and one night stands, but the advantages of such arrangements were lost on Hux. Normally the issue was a lack of people he felt attracted to, though occasionally, with men like this Shakespeare, he had the opposite problem. A drunk hook up, in Hux’ mind, lead to never seeing each other again.

He wasn’t so crazy to believe that he was already head over heels for this boy, and the possibility of it happening didn’t seem all that strong—his favorite play was Twelfth Night after all—but he knew that he liked the _possibility_ of it. If he was going to have sex with someone with hair like that, it’d have to become a regular occurrence.

When the Uber arrived, Hux found himself telling the driver he left something inside before stumbling back up to the party. He did a quick search of the room, before finding the thing he needed, right on the couch where it had been.

“You left your... skull?” asked Poe.

“He’s called Yorick.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was half past noon when Hux woke up the next morning, his phone violently buzzing under his pillow. He tried to ignore it, throwing it off the bed and onto the rug next to him. It might have worked had there not been knocking on his door. The knocking lead to a jangle of keys and the creak of hinges, the pads of Phasma’s shoes, and slaps on Hux’s shoulders. He groaned.

“Breakfast,” she said sternly.

“I’m hungover,” Hux complained into his pillow.

“Which is why you need coffee, and you can get it at breakfast.”

They had this argument every time. Phasma considered a post-party breakfast to be a tradition, while Hux considered it an annoyance being woken up on a day after drinking. It might be the afternoon, but he hadn’t gotten in until past three the night before. Sitting in a too bright diner, chugging coffee while Phasma relayed all that he missed did not strike him as particularly appealing.

“Are you paying?” Hux asked, face still stuck in cotton pillowcase.

“No, you have your inheritance money idiot. You’re practically loaded.”

“Yes but with the current economy,” he said, sitting up finally, “I might not find a job, and then I’ll have to ration this out until I’m at least 110, given the growing capacity of modern medicine.”

“You’re not accounting for the fact that you probably still got heart problems from your Dad and that you’ll get the rest of the money when your mom dies.”

“That’s probably going to the pool boy,” Hux answered, already stepping into some black jeans (not the ones from the night before) and tossing on a sweater.

“Your mother is far too classy to fuck the pool boy,” Phasma replied.

“And with that terrible image, I concede. Let’s get breakfast.”

***

Breakfast consisted of overly nice waitresses and greasy food. Hux had burnt his tongue on his first mug of coffee, but kept drinking it anyway, the waitress coming back to refill it constantly.

“Aren’t you supposed to drink tea?” she asked at one point, sloshing the coffee a bit so it spilled over the edge of his ceramic mug.

“What?” The question came off with a bit of a shocked scoff.

“Well aren’t you supposed to like tea? Because you’re British?”

“I’m a man of diverse interests,” Hux answered. The girl giggled and left the table, making her way to fill up coffee at other tables.

“You hate tea,” Phasma said, sipping at her own cup which was more cream than coffee.

“Well yes, but if I had said that then she would have gasped and talked about how shocking that all is. I don’t have time to tear down stereotypical notions of British-ness this early in the morning.”

“It’s past one.”

“Your point?”

Phasma sighed, moving on from the tea debate to focus on what she really wanted to talk about.

“You really let me down by not playing beer pong with me.”

“You asked me to play beer pong?”

“Yeah, while you were searching for bread.”

Hux had a vague memory of Phasma saying something to him while he was on her counter, looking through the upper cabinets for the bread. He had assumed it was something sweet like “Hux get down from there, you’ll break your skull open,” but an invitation to play beer pong made more sense. Phasma and him made a good team.

“Sorry,” he answered, eyes trained on his coffee.

“You should be. I had to have Finn as my partner, and he was far more concerned with you finding his bread than the game.”

“Why didn’t you play with Rey?” She was the obvious choice. Not as good as Hux, but good enough that Phasma could pull the rest of the weight if needed. Plus, Hux figured that the girls’ mutual desire to impress each other would make them play better than normal.

“She was the one who challenged us. Her and her cousin.”

“Her cousin?” He has never heard anything about a cousin, not that he often paid attention to Rey’s ramblings, but he figured he would have met the person by now with how often Phasma forced Hux into Rey’s company.

“Yeah, Ben. You were talking to him for like an hour. Shakespeare.”

“ _Hamlet?_ ”

“Same difference.”

“Oh my god I stole Rey’s cousin’s skull.”

Phasma snorted. “Is that a euphemism?”

“No, he had a skull as part of his costume and I... I took it when I left.”

“Why?”

After swearing Phasma to secrecy, he told her the full of it. Maybe he was still drunk, but it was nice to have something to give to the breakfast conversation for once. He spelled out the details of the cute Shakespeare conversation, of Ben’s bad taste, of his arm around Hux and how Hux had let that happen. He told her about not seeing Ben again after the shots until he saw him kissing the paper towel man.

“You can’t date Rey’s cousin.” Phasma said firmly.

Hux was torn between asking “why” and denying the possibility entirely, but he didn’t have the chance to respond before she continued.

“If you were to date Ben, and me and Rey worked out, then we’d be like family. And I never, ever, want you as part of my family. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered, “Besides, I’m not planning on pursuing that. He was just... momentarily appealing.”

***

The weekend ended, leaving Hux to return to his classes. It had only just begun getting cold outside, but the classroom building that housed the humanities had been cold since August, always with the air conditioning on full blast. His signature sweater/peacoat ensemble was nothing new for October.

He was checking his phone—still plenty of time before class—when he noticed the chair to his right scooting out. It was normally left empty, a buffer seat between himself and the pseudo Emersonian scholar that sat by the window. When he looked to see what person had dared to change seats so far into the semester, he was surprised to make eye contact with Ben Solo.

“What are you doing here?” Hux asked, baffled.

“What do you mean?” came Ben’s deep voiced reply.

“Are you stalking me?” Hux couldn’t see a reason why the guy would stalk him after one semi-successful conversation, but he couldn’t imagine an alternative explanation.

Ben smiled. “I’m in this class.”

“You transferred into my class?” Hux asked before he could stop himself.

“You’re just as conceited as expected,” Ben responded, “And no, I’ve been in this class all semester.”

“I would have—“

“You sit at the front, get here before anyone else, and don’t listen to other people’s points. Which is valid. Everyone in this class is an idiot, present company now only slightly excluded.”

“That... why would you be taking African American Women’s Literature if you weren’t an English major?” The class counted towards a postcolonial requirement for English majors, but didn’t seem to serve a purpose for anyone outside of the field. He had taken one or two courses that doubled as Law and Social Thought classes, but he was certain that this was not one of them.

“I am an English major,” Ben replied calmly.

“Impossible. I know all the—“

“Creative Writing.”

Hux couldn’t help the drawn out “ohhhh” that came out of his mouth. Not only did it explain why Hux wouldn’t have seen him before (as English was a small department, he knew almost everyone, save for some of the creative writing people who had a slightly altered set of requirements), but it also cleared up why he now seemed to Hux like such an idiot. Creative Writing concentrations were the scum of the Earth, just above English Education morons.

“Well that’s not your seat so you should probably go back to where you normally abide.”

“No one sits here,” said Ben simply.

“My bag normally sits there.”

“Well I’m sorry, but to be fair, you carry a messenger bag. The sooner it gets worn down by the dusty floors and gives you a chance to replace it, the better.”

“Excuse me, but my bag is—“

“A pain in your left shoulder.”

“Must you always interrupt?”

“I guess I don’t have to, but I like watching you huff.”

At that moment, Hux decided to go for a new tactic. Ignoring. He pulled his phone back out, typing a quick text to Phasma.

_I was mistaken. Ben is not hot. Just tall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol sorry to any creative writing or education majors. Hux is a terrible person.


	3. Chapter 3

The class didn’t go as horribly as Hux imagined. Ben was an awful leg wiggler, and instead of taking actual notes he just drew pictures of Zora Neale Hurston, but at least he wasn’t one to try to spark up conversation in class.

Hux couldn’t help but note that Ben took notes on graph paper. While Hux was a fellow graph paper user, it seemed to serve them different purposes. Where Hux used the rigid landscape to accentuate larger idea and organize outlines, Ben seemed to just like to color in squares at random, or use it for the proportions of Zora’s face. Still, Hux couldn’t help but find the paper choice endearing. He didn’t know any other graph paper users.

When class was over, Hux tried to ignore Ben, packing everything into his bag slowly, yet the boy still lingered. Ben stood against the table, arms crossed over his chest. Hux hated how wide Ben was. He seemed entirely disproportionate. Tall but skinny but wide. Long headed, big nose, even bigger ears. Hux imagined that that nose would get in the way when kissing, and then willed himself to stop thinking about kissing Ben. He wasn’t hot, just tall. And had good hair.

“So what are you doing after this?” Ben asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Library,” Hux replied, starting to make his way out of the room. Ben followed, long strides easily keeping in time with Hux.

“Ah, it seems you knew exactly what would get rid of me. I hate libraries.” Ben still followed, however, perhaps hoping that Hux’ course would change.

“You hate learning then?”

“No, just libraries. They’re too quiet. Plus I don’t actually know how to check out a book so it’s mostly useless.”

“What year are you?”

“Junior.”

“You’re a junior and you don’t know how to check out a book.” The idea appalled Hux. How did this man get any essays written? Sure, there were online sources, but all the good stuff was still in print.

“Well if I ever need to I now know who to make teach me.” Hux hated the way Ben grinned at him, only with his top teeth that were just as strangely large as the rest of him. They must get in the way, like the nose. Hux shook his head.

“If you’re not going to the library—“

“The student union is on the way. I need cheesy bread,” Ben answered, “Have you eaten yet?”

“I had breakfast not long before class.”

“People still eat breakfast?” Ben sounded surprised, and Hux couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Yes. I don’t want my stomach growling in class.”

“Fair enough. Well, this is my stop,” Ben said as they passed the doors to the Student Union, “Guess I’ll see you at trivia tonight.”

Ben had already passed through the small crowd of students and into the building by the time Hux could process what he had said. His pace quickened as he dug his phone out of his pocket, texting Phasma while treking the rest of the way to the library.

_Why did not-hot-just-tall Ben just tell me he’s going to be at trivia??_

Phasma had to be awake by now. Hux had her schedule memorized like it was his own at this point. Her French class was starting in fifteen minutes, which meant she was probably in line at Starbucks, probably regretting her choice. The line was always ridiculously long, and she never made it to class on time.

_Rey invited him._ Phasma answered quickly.

_I never liked that girl._

_Apparently she had to? Not-hot Ben got kicked out of his apartment and is staying on her couch. She didn’t want to leave him alone with Rose._

_He got kicked out?_

_Punched a hole in a wall._

_Well that’s reassuring._

***

“So let me get this straight,” Ben said from his spot on Phasma’s couch, “We’re actually taking an Uber to trivia?”

Weekly trivia had become a time honored tradition. It had started as just Phasma and Hux accidentally going to a bar on trivia night and joining in, but they kept going, eventually recruiting Finn to their team, which lead to Rey, which lead to Phasma’s ridiculous crush and insistence that trivia night must be solidified in all four of theirs weekly plans. Hux loved it though. The questions were the right amount of difficulty, where they weren’t easy, but often times gave more than one clue to help you reach at least a somewhat plausible guess.

“We’ve accidentally gotten too drunk enough times to know it’s better to Uber,” Finn explained.

“Are you telling me Hux doesn’t have a rule against drinking on school nights?” Ben asked, grinning at Hux’s huff of a reaction.

“It’s not like I get hammered—“

“Oh Hux is always the first to go,” Phasma cut in, “Total lightweight. You should see how he wobbles to the bathroom in between rounds.”

“I’m not that bad! And I never drink enough where I’ll have a hangover.”

“Well except that one time—“ Finn started, but Phasma cut him off.

“Watch the sensitive topics idiot.”

***

“Dibs on front seat. Dibs dibs dibs,” Finn said as soon as they could make out the look of their Uber driver. Phasma had picked out the same Poe that had picked Hux up from the party.

“No ones fighting you for the awkward small talk with the random stranger,” Rey answered. She climbed into the far back, and Hux followed behind her. His legs didn’t quite fit, but Phasma and Ben would have had a more difficult time.

“Remember everything?” Poe asked, smiling at Hux in the mirror.

“Yep!” Hux answered, almost as a squeak, remembering that Poe was among the few who had knowledge of his skull stealing escapades. He held his finger to his lips, trying to indicate that the skull was meant to be kept secret. Poe gave a small nod, which was relieving.

“So, First Order Brewery, right?”

“Yeah, it’s trivia night,” Finn answered, perhaps too eagerly. Poe didn’t seem to mind though, and the two of them continued to chat. Hux, on the other hand, was left to stare at the back of Ben’s head for the rest of the drive, memorizing the way the strands moved together in chunks, neither straight nor curly. Hux wouldn’t even consider it wavy. It just seemed to decide to bend in random intervals, creasing and flipping. It wasn’t attractive, Hux’ mind asserted, just long.

As they were nearing the bar, Hux heard Finn say “Poe, you should just go to trivia with us.”

With dread, Hux imagined the group that would make. Phasma obviously vying for Rey’s attention, Finn clinging to their admittedly handsome Uber driver, and Hux, left stranded with Ben, who ate cheesy bread as a meal at 10:30am and had odd features and who punched a whole in a wall and made out with a Brawny man and might have flirted with Hux who might have enjoyed it and wanted him to do it some more if he wasn’t such a smug idiot.

“I’m sure he has to keep working,” Hux insisted.

“Actually,” Poe started, making Hux’ stomach knot, “Weeknights are pretty slow anyway. It wouldn’t be so horrible if I stayed. If that’s all right? If it’s weird, obviously—“

“No!” Finn interjected, perhaps too quickly, “No one minds, right?”

“Nope!” Rey added, and Hux fought the urge to kick her, “The more people on our team the better chance we have at winning.”

***

Hux felt better once they had sat down and he had a drink in his hand. Sure, he was stuck right where he had thought he would be, across from Ben at the edge of the table, but looking towards the stage where Mr. Snoke would read out the questions put Poe more into his line of sight. He wasn’t so low that he would make a pass at the Uber driver who his friend was so clearly drooling over, but it was a much better view than Ben’s stupid broad shoulders and interesting moles and eyes that were patterned with a surprising amount of shades of brown.

Ben kicked him under the table, stopping Hux from continuing to admire the true curl of Poe’s hair.

“Trying to play footsie?” Hux asked. He almost thought he actually saw Ben start to blush.

“No... sorry,” he grumbled, “The table is just small and my legs are long and I was trying to hold them in a way so they wouldn’t bump yours but then they slipped so... yeah.”

“Drink,” Hux ordered, “And relax.”

Ben listened to him, taking a breath before sipping his beers. Hux saw his shoulder rest slightly, and felt their knees bump together under the table. It really was too small for all of their long legs.

“What are you so nervous about anyway?” Hux asked.

“Trivia,” Ben answered, “I don’t like losing.”

“Don’t worry, we always lose,” Hux replied, “I thought I would hate losing too, but the questions are so random that even getting one right seems like a personal victory.”

Hux hated how natural it felt to talk to Ben. He fell into it so easily. Sure, the alcohol was certainly helping, but he wasn’t _that_ much of a light weight. He was just... having fun. Having Ben there to back him up on the fact that an answer was Chester Cheeto and not goddamn Mr. Peanut was incredibly helpful. Hux almost didn’t mind the way Ben used the sleeve of his zip-up hoodie as a napkin, or how sometimes when he would tell his guess for an answer he would almost shout it.

However, as soon as he felt Ben’s knee pressing into his again—not an accidental bump, somehow more purposeful—Hux’ fun stopped. He wasn’t going to get carried away. The big nose. The ears. The paper towel man. Twelfth Night. Doodle notes. Cheesy bread. He recited them all in his head as a mantra. Hux wasn’t going to let himself be attracted to Ben Solo.

He was brought out of his thinking when Phasma had decided a question was important enough to reach across the whole table to slap his shoulder.

“Sorry, what was the question?” There were very few that Hux could be called upon to answer.

“How tall is Bruno Mars in centimeters?” Finn said, managing to whisper and shout simultaneously.

“What are you asking me for? I don’t know how tall Bruno Mars is.”

“But you’re British,” Phasma answered, “You at least know how centimeters work.”

“You’re telling me that you’re University students and you don’t understand the metric system?”

“Oh shut up,” Ben said, “Bruno Mars is what, short? Normal? Shorter than Rey?”

“Probably?” Rey answered.

“So 5’6 ish. But in centimeters.”

“Go with 165,” Hux said, gulping down the remaining parts of his drink.

They were right. It was a true team effort, but somehow Hux was given the credit.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Ben said.

“I can buy my own?” Hux answered. It came out as a question, less from shock and more from the strangeness of it. Bar trivia wasn’t exactly the right atmosphere for drink buying.

“But you got the answer right,” Ben said, “It’s a reward.”

“You got the question about Neutral Milk Hotel right. No one bought you anything.”

“Everyone knew that, I was just the first person to say it,” Ben said, and believed it.

“That is definitely not true,” Hux answered.

“...You don’t like Neutral Milk Hotel?”

“I’ve never _heard_ Neutral Milk Hotel,” Hux corrected.

“All right. Well I guess I’m not buying you a drink then.”

***

Poe drove them back to the house. He had only had sips of everyone else’s drinks, and was perfectly competent to drive. Hux, however, was not. For some reason he had thought it was a good idea to practically chug a hard cider in between rounds, adding a drink to his normal amount. He wasn’t the sort of drunk that he got at parties—energized and weird—just drunk enough to wobble when he walked and talk too loud.

Phasma sat in the back with him, and she let him lay his head in her lap. At the end of every trivia night he was filled with regret, but it was always quickly relieved when he remembered that he didn’t have class until noon the next day.

“I’m telling you, I have psychic abilities,” Hux heard Ben say. At this point, he want so much of listening as he was watching Ben’s lips.Had they always been that dusty pink color? They looked soft too, like maybe he used expensive chapstick.

“Stop being ridiculous,” Rey replied.

“No I’m telling you Rey, in my Paranormal Creative Writing class—“

“Oh that seems very credible.”

“It is! Anyway, we did this Zenner Card test, and I got most of them right. I’m a statistical improbability...”

Hux stopped paying attention to the words entirely. He instead focused on how the whites of Ben’s eyes seemed to get bigger and brighter when he got excited. He also noticed, on further inspection, that the leg hair poking out of Ben’s distressed jeans was long, but not as thick as he would have guessed. His thighs seemed thick though, like...

“I’m going to text Dopheld,” Hux said, bringing his phone up to his face. He hadn’t even been able to unlock it before Phasma had ripped it away.

“Oh no you don’t.”

***

Back at the house Hux was declared too tipsy to drive. Rey, who was also declared not quite sober enough, joined Phasma upstairs. Poe joined Finn in his room, and at the time Hux hadn’t questioned the Uber drivers need to sleep there.

“I’m taking your phone with me,” Phasma said from the stairs, “Have Ben set an alarm for you.”

“I’m not a kid, you can’t just take my phone,” Hux answered.

“We’re not risking any casualties tonight. Just go to bed.”

“Phasma!”

But she ignored him, leaving him downstairs, phoneless, ready to battle Ben for the larger couch.

“I’m taking this one,” Hux said, plopping down onto the three-seater.

“I’m taller though,” Ben retaliated, sitting on the other end before Hux could stretch out all the way.

“Yeah, by barely an inch,” Hux answered, laying down anyway, letting his feet fall on Ben’s lap.

There was a pause. Hux’s eyes were already shut, so he didn’t get to see the slight shock on Ben’s face. He was looking back and forth between Hux’s face and legs, surprised by the invitation. Or, at least, Ben had interpreted it that way.

“Fine,” Ben said, finally coming to a decision, “We can share then.” Ben laid down sideways behind Hux, or, at least, he attempted too. As soon as Ben’s hand reached to touch Hux’ shoulder, Hux was rolling off the couch, half of his body hitting the coffee table on the way.

“Oh fuck. Hux, are you ok?”

“I’ll take the love seat,” Hux said, barely caring about any bruises he might have made on the way down, moving to curl in on himself on the other chair, “Set an alarm for 11 for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I forgot to mention that Luke adopted Rey? Also why the heck did I make Hux the only British one? Who knows?


	4. Chapter 4

Luckily the alcohol had been enough to lull Hux into sleep, despite his small mortification about falling into a table. Unluckily, he was woken up not to a simple alarm, but rather to the loud beeping that only the worst sort of people chose to wake up to. Hux groaned, taking a square pillow, emblazoned with a photograph of a pug in space, and tossed it over to the other couch. It hit with the distinct plop sound of cushion hitting cushion. Looking over at the couch, the ugly red plaid pattern stood out, void of any sleeping persons. Unable to stand the blaring noise any longer, Hux leaned off the love seat to grab at Ben’s phone. He turned the noise off, noticing that the background was some aesthetically rendered Star Trek quote. Another thing Hux could add to his list of reasons why Ben was not a viable mate.

Hux could hear voices coming from the kitchen. They hadn’t seemed to notice the obnoxious alarm, which Hux didn’t understand, but it gave him some time to just continue laying before he got up.

There was the distinct little “ah” that followed a sip of coffee before Ben’s voice carried from the kitchen and into Hux’s ears. “So what’s Hux deal?”

“Huh?” The voice was Finn’s. Hux figures this was his cue to get up, storm the kitchen, and stop the conversation from happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to get off the couch. It was cozy, and his mind was full of curiosity.

“Like... he’s mean when he’s sober. Well, not mean really, but stingy?”

Ben wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean that Hux particularly liked hearing it.

“Oh, well sober Hux just thinks about three steps in the future. Like, you might be thinking, ‘Wow, I sure do need some coffee’ but Hux would be thinking, ‘So I want some coffee but if I drink it now then I’ll have to pee during class so I can’t drink it until 11:45 which means I have to be in the Starbucks line by 11:20 because it will still need some time to cool down.’ And he’s like that about everything.”

Hux was sure that what Finn said could come off negative, like he was too worrisome, but the way Finn said it, his voice ever friendly, didn’t make it seem like an insult. It was neutral. It was how Hux was. It was correct too, considering how he was currently planning on breaking the conversation up. He could take the more forceful approach and go straight to the kitchen, or go soft and head for the bathroom. The kitchen was more aggressive, but he’s have to use the bathroom anyway, so perhaps less logical. Unless, of course, Poe was in the bathroom. Hux hadn’t heard him in the conversation, making Poe’s bathroom presence a possibility. This meant that Hux remained where he was another minute, making sure Poe would have had ample time to leave the bathroom, had he been in there, before going in himself.

When he made it from the bathroom to the kitchen, Finn greeted him with a smile and an offer for coffee.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Hux answered. The truth was that Finn’s french press always left little grounds in the coffee, but Finn gave Ben a look that said ‘what’d I tell ya’?’

“Hey, favor,” Ben said, “Could I get a ride to campus with you? Rey only has night classes today, and we drove here together, and it makes sense since you’re going to campus anyway.”

Hux wanted to decline, but it didn’t seem practical. “Sure, whatever.”

***

“Your car is so clean,” Ben said, ducking into the passenger seat. He adjusted it all the way back, trying to make room for his legs in the little Honda Accord. It wasn’t a nice car, but it would last.

“Yes, well I do prefer things that way,” Hux replied. After a moments deliberation, he handed the aux chord over to Ben, who accepted with what appeared to be a mixture of shock and giddy excitement. While Hux was sure that he wouldn’t actually enjoy Ben’s style of music, he thought it would be less trouble than choosing for himself.

Hux didn’t usually listen to music in the car. Normally he just listened to the Pride and Prejudice audiobook. He had heard it at least thirty times by now, but that never stopped him from starting back at “It is a truth universally acknowledged...” every time it ended. When he was pulling up to Phasma’s the night before he had stayed in the car an extra minute or two, just so he could hear the “What are men compared to rocks and mountains?” line.

He glanced behind his head to back the car up, and had to pass by Ben’s face on the way. Now that he thought about it, Ben sort of _looked_ like a rock or a mountain. He was all ridges, slopes, moles like moss and hair like the silhouettes of trees at night time.

Ben had taken his time to pick out a playlist, but eventually a gritty guitar was playing out of the cars lack lusters speakers. 

_Waking up in someone else’s bed was what I was waiting for._   
_Oh my days, what have I done? She saw me sneaking out the door._

The voice sang as Ben fiddled with the knobs of the stereo, adjusting treble and bass. Hux was planning to tell him to stop, but the more Ben worked the better the song sounded. It was not as punk as Hux had imagined, but was still reasonably within the realms of what he imagined Ben listened to.

“I like this. What is this?” Hux asked simply.

“Alex Clare. He was kind of a one hit sort of guy, but his other music is better. Like a punk indie electronica. This is my easy listening playlist so nothing should be too out of left field for you,” Ben answered. Hux couldn’t imagine a world in which “punk indie electronica” was considered on the normal side of someone’s musical spectrum.

“No, I mean, it sounds familiar. Like I already like it,” Hux answered, “Is it in a movie or something?”

“Uhhh,” Ben said, moving from the knobs on the stereo to his phone, “Oh my god.” He was staring at his phone, almost giggling.

“What?” Hux asked, impatient, “What’s it from?”

“It’s the theme song to the Doctor Who spin-off.” Ben was almost cackling at this point.

“Oh god,” Hux said in complete mortification.

“Henry the Fifth loving Hux is actually a total nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd,” Hux insisted, “I’m just... British. And I was home for the summer. My mum made me watch it. She said I reminded her of the gay alien prince, which, after watching the whole thing, was not a compliment.”

“At least it has a good theme song,” Ben said with his all top toothed grin.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Where’s home then?” Ben asked, adjusting to face Hux better. He had one foot up against the dashboard, his right shoulder pressed into the window. “I mean, England, obviously, but where?”

“Manchester,” Hux replied, “But we moved to London when I was about 13.” He got this question a lot, but over the years he had found that most people’s curiosity was disappointed when they realized they didn’t actually know British geography. If you didn’t name a celebrity to go along with the city, they didn’t usually care.

“Do you just go home for summer then?” Ben asked.

“And Christmas,” Hux said, choosing not to mention the time freshman year when he had to go back for his dad’s funeral.

“So not Thanksgiving?”

“Why would I go back to Engl—“

“So if you’re just going to be around here for Thanksgiving,” Ben said, “then you might as well come back with Rey and me. See how Americans celebrate their fine achievement of genociding the natives.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Hux answered. Hux doubted there was anything that could tempt him to spend five days with Ben Solo and his family. He imagined that the Solos were quite a loud group of people.

“Oh come on, what better thing do you have to do?”

“Read.”

“Oh come on, you probably just read the same books over and over. Thanksgiving will be way more fun.”

“No.”

“Ok, how’s this: up until Thanksgiving we play twenty questions and I act all sleuthy, and if I can guess your favorite movie then you have to come to Thanksgiving.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll stop sitting next to you in class.”

“Deal.”

***

Hux pulled up to his apartment complex while Ben remained silent. The biggest advantage of their new game, it would seem, was the silence it brought as Ben calculated the best questions.

“I’m just going to change real quick, you can stay in ...” Hux said, his voice trailing off as Ben had already hurtled out of the car.

“Let me borrow some clothes,” Ben said as he slammed the passenger door closed.

“What? No. You won’t fit them,” Hux answered, fishing through his coat pockets for his keys. They jangled, heavy with keychains that his mom brought him back from trips abroad.

“Oh come on, they might not fit perfect but it’s not like you’re that tiny.”

Hux sighed. “Fine.” Arguing with Ben often seemed like a waste of his energy.

Hux apartment was small, opening directly into the bedroom. On the right side there was a small archway leading to a kitchen that Phasma had once noted was smaller than her closet, and that branched off into the bathroom, which, while tiny, at least had good water pressure. The place was sort of awful, but it had been a last minute deal, and it was close to campus, so it did have some slight advantages.

Making it into the room first, Hux quickly say his jacket on the desk, covering Yorick and a small Doctor Who figurine that his mom had given him when he was a kid. She had always imagined he liked the show more than he did.

Hux’ room was impeccable clean, save for the foot of space between the left wall and his bed. He had kicked most of his pillows and blankets into that crevice, preferring instead to sleep with a single lumpy pillow folded in half. Hux didn’t even sleep in the proper direction, instead choosing to situate his head at the foot of his bed, letting his toes press against the cold wood of the headboard.

“You don’t have any dvds,” Ben noted as Hux began searching through his closet.

“They’re a pain to bring in a suitcase, and I would have had to bring a British DVD player too,” Hux said, tossing a pair of joggers behind him, “Try these.”

Hux heard the zip and rustle of denim that meant Ben had just decided to strip down in the middle of his bedroom. He tried not to think about it, it mostly being Ben’s thighs, but couldn’t stop the blush that was growing on his skin. His eyes were set on the closet, but even as he rifled through it, he found himself not really paying enough attention to find anything.

“Is your favorite movie on Netflix then?” Ben asked. The first question.

“No, not anymore. I had to buy it on Amazon.” It was more information than Hux had to give, but the talking help distract him, letting him find the xl T-shirt he had gotten for free at the banned books event that the library organized. He tossed it behind him.

“So it’s not on Netflix, but it was, and it’s the kind of movie you can watch more than once,” Ben mumbled to himself.

“I watch most movies more than once,” Hux said, finding the black jeans and grey turtleneck that he wanted before going to change in the bathroom.

His head was still halfway through the turtleneck hole when there was a knock. “What?” Hux asked, slightly agitated. Apparently Ben took that as an invitation to open the door, making Hux remember that he really needed to fix the lock on it.

Ben snickered, helping Hux to escape the neck of his shirt. “Do you happen to be one of those people who keeps a bunch of spare tooth brushes around?”

“No,” Hux said simply, looking in the mirror and trying to rearrange his hair with his fingers. It liked to fall straight in front of his eyes, and he always had to force it back. “You can use that one,” Hux said motioning to one that sat in a cup on the edge of the sink. Hux’ personal toothbrush was just left on the counter. “It was only used a couple times, and not for months.”

Ben stared at it, skeptical, “Do you trust whoever’s mouth has been here?”

Hux snorted. “I guess?”

Ben sighed, “I feel like I’m disgusting for doing this, but at least I’ll be disgusting with fresh breath.”

Hux we his own toothbrush, and grabbed the toothpaste off the other side of the sink. He had never thought that brushing his teeth was an awkward thing until he was standing in that bathroom, brushing his teeth with Ben Solo. He was suddenly aware of how frothy his lips got, and tried to keep the toothpaste in his mouth. Internally he was trying to click off the seconds, not wanting to seem gross for cutting his tooth brushing session short. He risked a glance over at Ben, who had a glob of blue toothpaste on his chin and had chosen the tactic of looking up at the ceiling to keep all the saliva in his mouth. While he had thought that the image of Ben would either be disgusting, or make him feel disgusted with his own teeth brushing, he found Ben being there next to him oddly reassuring. People just look weird when they brush their teeth. Or, more accurately to Hux’ thoughts, Ben is kind of cute when he brushes his teeth...

***

Their classes were in the same building, which made sense given their similar majors. For Hux, however, that meant they had to walk there together.

“Who’s toothbrush was that?” Ben asked as they were walking.

“I’m not answering that.”

“What if it’s one of my 20 questions?”

“Fine,” Hux said with a sigh, “It’s my ex-boyfriends.”

“You kept your ex’s toothbrush?”

“Is that your third question?” Hux asked, adjusting his bag. Ben had been right the other day. This messenger bag really was messing with his shoulder.

“No,” Ben said, “I try not to worry about the past.”

“You mean you try not to worry about a practical stranger’s past boyfriends?”

“We brushed our teeth together. I wouldn’t exactly call us strangers,” Ben said, “Oh and hey, I need your number in case I think of any good questions that I won’t want to forget”

Hux sighed, but found himself typing it into Ben’s phone anyway. He knew he would regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Up All Night, and is also the song from which I got the title of this fic.   
> I can’t believe it’s 2018 and I’m still making my characters be Doctor Who fans. Who am I??


	5. Chapter 5

Question 3

It was nine pm that same night when Ben texted him. Hux was trying to write a paper on Sula for his African American Women’s literature class. He was doing a queer reading of it, talking about how spunky Sula and her grounded best friend Nel were obviously lovers, making the book a play on the notion that opposites attract. It was due the next day and he was still barely finishing up his intro paragraph.

_huxxxxxxx._

The message came from an unknown number, but Hux knew exactly who it was.

_Shouldn’t you be writing a paper Ben?_

_i wrote the first page so I’m giving myself a break._

Hux tried not to let it annoy him that Ben had more written than he had. He was sure the quality of Ben’s would be much lower, even if it was finished faster.

_Did you need something? Or are you just trying to annoy me?_

_i need coffee. we should get coffee together. work on our essays, drink some starbies, it’d be fun._

_No._

Hux couldn’t believe Ben had even asked him. First of all, Starbucks closed in an hour, and with travel time that meant they’d be there only for about forty five minutes. Secondly, this essay had to actually get done. There was no way Hux had time to go on a pseudo-date with Ben and have time to finish it to the quality that he wanted. Then of course, there was the whole concept that Ben had somehow thought any part of Hux would even want to get coffee with him, essay or no. Even at a more convenient time Hux would have said no. Why would Hux want to go and sit across from Ben Solo for an hour, making awkward conversation? He imagined there wouldn’t be much to talk about, leaving Hux to just sip his coffee and stare at Ben, counting his moles, noticing the way his shirt stuck to his arms, seeing how the coffee cup was dwarfed by Ben’s hands, and watching him raise it to sip with his dusty pink lips.

Hux’ phone vibrated. He thought about going to put it in the kitchen where Ben couldn’t distract him.

_worth a shot. anyway, actual business at hand. is your favorite movie based on a book?_

_Yes._

***

Question 4

“You’re not supposed to put the page number on the first page,” Hux noted, glancing at Ben’s essay.

“Yeah, well no one actually cares about that,” Ben said, “Do you have a stapler?”

Hux sighed, pulling his miniature stapler out of the front of his bag and handing it over.

“See, this is the real reason I want to keep sitting by you,” Ben insisted, gathering his papers to staple them, “You think it’s because I want to annoy you, I think it’s because I need more friends, when in actuality it’s just that somewhere in the back of my mind I have realized that you’re the kind of person who carries around staplers. You’re an asset to my life.”

“And you’re just an ass.”

“Fair point,” Ben said, handing back the stapler, “In other news, I have another question for you.”

“Go on,” Hux said, wanting to get this over with.

“Is the movie YA?”

“I’m offended.”

“Listen, I was up with nightmares last night that your favorite move was The Fault in Our Stars.”

“I can’t believe you think so lowly of me.”

“Well you’ve seen the entirety of a Doctor Who spin-off. As far as I know you could have shitty taste and Henry V was a lie to make me like you.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you like me,” Hux huffed, trying to turn to his phone to get Ben to drop the conversation. Still, he persisted.

“Oh come on, if Phasma hadn’t stolen you away I totally could have made out with you by the end of the night.”

“Excuse me?” Hux asked, incredulous.

“Sorry, _snogged_ ,” Ben corrected himself.

Hux wanted to storm out of class. He couldn’t stand Ben. He was tired from writing his essay, already putting him in a bad mood, and here Ben had to be, sitting next to him, calling him nothing more than an asset and asserting that he could have made Hux his conquest. Before, while he had thought Ben was altogether annoying, he had at least thought his pestering was somewhat innocent. Now, however, he just felt objectified.

“I assure you, if Phasma hadn’t ‘stolen me away’ I still wouldn’t have realized what a complete and utter asshat you were.”

At that moment the professor walked in. There was a minute or so before class started, giving Hux time to stand up, deliver his essay, and fake an excuse about a family emergency before exiting the class. He hadn’t skipped before, and apparently his annoyance at Ben had given his facial expression the kind of frantic quality one usually had in an actual emergency.

***

Question 5 - 11

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” Phasma said when Hux got back from the bathroom. It was Friday night and they were drinking wine and watching The Great Gatsby, or, as Phasma would call it, The Gay Gatsby.

“Yeah, I know,” Hux said, settling into his corner spot on the couch.

“Who is it?”

“Ben.”

“You gave Ben your number?” Phasma asked. She had turned away from the movie, now completely facing Hux.

“I was cornered into it.” He knew that it wasn’t completely true. Hux had given up his number without a fight. However, this is what he chose to believe.

“...You know, I heard something rather peculiar from Rey the other day,” Phasma started, “And I had brushed it off as an impossibility before, but after hearing that Not-Hot Ben Solo actually has your number, I’m no longer sure.”

Hux sighed, but didn’t bother to respond. He knew Phasma would go on without his prompting, and also knew that this would require more wine.

“She said you’re going home for Thanksgiving with her and Ben.”

Hux took a large gulp before he pulled himself another glass.

“Hux! You can’t just not say anything to that.”

“Ben said that if he could guess my favorite movie in 20 questions I’d have to go to Thanksgiving with him. However, if he couldn’t guess then he’d stop sitting next to me in class.”

Phasma’s mouth hung open, unable to speak, so Hux continued.

“It’s no big deal. I’m confident in his lack of deduction skills.”

Phasma took a sip of wine, finally getting a hold of herself. “Well you got yourself into this mess, so you should answer him. It’s not fair if you don’t answer his questions.”

“No thanks, I’m angry with him.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“More angry than usual.”

“Fine, I’ll do it then,” she said, reaching over and taking his phone. He went to grab it from her hand, but she was to hold it out of his reach, easily pushing him back into his seat. He slumped. Why did everyone he knew have to be tall and strong?

Phasma read the texts aloud. Hux could see the phone screen from where he was sitting, noting how each sentence had been sent as a separate message. Hux had always thought himself annoying for double texting, but now he knew that was nothing compared to Ben Solo.

“ _Hey. Question five I think? Was the movie fairly recent? Like post 1980?_ Yes, obviously. _Need a response so I can ask the rest of my planned questions. Are you mad? Sorry. I’m actually sorry. I’ll just ask my questions anyway. Does the movie take place in modern times?_ Also yes. _Basically I think it’s probably Pride and Prejudice. Are you really upset? Sorry I was just joking before._ Poor guy.”

“Don’t feel sorry for him. He’s an asshole that’s just toying with me. He only talks to me because he needs something to do.”

“That’s the reason why everyone talks to each other,” Phasma pointed out before looking back at the phone, “ _Ok, I’ll just ask. Is it Pride and Prejudice? It must be right. Come on. I’m sorry. Let’s make a deal, I’ll forget the night of the party and you can forget class on Thursday and we can actually talk to each other again._ Hux, I get that he made you mad, but what I don’t get is how someone can send you this many messages without you replying.”

“Ignoring him is a punishment.”

“Kinky. Should I tell him it’s not Pride and Predjudice?”

“Well it’s not.”

“All right then, then no to that one. There’s like four more ‘I’m sorry’ texts? And then it’s just questions. _If it’s not Pride and Prejudice, is it still a romantic movie?_ Yes. _Is it a sad movie?_ No. _Is it a funny movie?_ Yes. _Is it a British movie? Like, are the actors British?_ No.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah. I feel like he’s got good questions. I’m not entirely sure he won’t figure it out.”

Hux just hummed, trying to stay positive. He had figured that the answering of the questions would bring in another slew of texts, but when he checked his phone later he saw that Phasma had sent another response than just the answers.

_Hey, Phasma here. The last text was from me but Hux was right there so I can assure you that the answers are correct. Probably best just to wait it out for a little bit. Hux can only hold onto a grudge for so long. See you at trivia next week._

***

Question 12

Hux didn’t talk to Ben again until the following Tuesday. He still sat by him in class, but they didn’t talk more than a greeting.

At trivia, they didn’t sit across from each other. Poe was busy driving other people around, which meant it was just the five of them. Finn had an exam the next day though, which, although he didn’t seem worried enough to study, meant he didn’t want to drink, so he offered to drive them.

At the table then, Hux sat across from Phasma, leaving Ben with plenty of leg room with no one across from him.

Hux wasn’t paying much attention to the trivia. He felt unsettled. After only a few days of the constant barrage of Ben’s presence, he had grown used to it. It had felt somewhat normal during the weekend, just hanging out with Phasma like normal, but to have Ben there, yet silent, not trying to trick him into anything or making fun of him, was strange. Ben had been a chaotic person in Hux’ life, and now he felt more like a shadow. It was off-putting.

On the way home, Rey asserted that she had constant dibs of shotgun in Finn’s car, leaving Hux to squeeze in the middle seat of the back. He hadn’t thought he was drunk until they had stood up to leave, and then it had all hit him at once. The not walking straight, the lack of control. Hux was sure he was drunk though when he found himself leaning in his seat, and not onto Phasma, but onto Ben.

“Your shoulder is very uncomfortable,” Hux said. Ben was sitting rigidly straight, tense, leaving his shoulder at an awkward height for Hux. It didn’t stop him.

“You could move,” Ben said, but there was a lack of conviction in his voice. Hux didn’t notice, but Phasma certainly picked up on it. She was pretending not to pay attention to them, but was not very successful. They were, after all, directly next to her.

“Too tired,” Hux answered, nuzzling in.

Hux made Ben walk him back into the house, still leaning on him.

“I need notes from Thursday,” Hux said when Ben sat him down on the couch, “But all you do is draw pictures.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there,” Ben said.

“You’re a terrible friend,” Hux said, laying down and curling under a blanket.

“Well at least that makes me a friend,” Ben said with a grin.

“Only if you don’t try to use me only for my stapler and great snogging ability.” Hux really was drunk.

Ben laughed. “It’s a deal.”

Hux had imagined scooting over on the couch, letting Ben share cushions and warmth, but after a few minutes Ben had decided he was ok to drive—he hadn’t drank as much, and could certainly hold his drinks better than Hux—and drove him and Rey home. Before he left, however, he had brought Hux a glass of water and asked, “What’s your favorite movie?”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Fine. Is it sci-fi or fantasy?”

“No.”

***

Question 13-14

On Thursday when Ben entered their class he had a color coded sheet of questions, follow up questions, and possible movies.

“I’ve gotten to the point,” Ben said, “Where I keep thinking of movies that it can’t be and getting disappointed. Like, why isn’t your favorite movie Love Actually? It’s great!”

“Is that your favorite movie?” Hux asked, not looking up from his phone. He was taking a quiz on buzzfeed about which superhero he was. Before Ben had entered the classroom he had been utterly bored.

“No, mine _was_ Edward Scissorhands, but now that Johnny Depp is a rat bastard I have to find a new one.”

“So it could be Love Actually then.” Hux smiled at his phone. Buzzfeed apparently thought he was Black Widow. He admired their accuracy.

“It could be, but it isn’t,” Ben answered, “But anyway, is the book your favorite movie was based on written by a woman?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, is it Eat, Pray, Love?”

“You always find new ways to offend me.”

***

Question 15

Ben texted Hux late Saturday night. Hux had just got out of the shower and was laying in his bed with a towel on his pillow so it wouldn’t get too damp from his hair.

_2 things. does your movie pass the bechdel test and also you should come over for coffee tomorrow._

_To answer the first question, probably, and to the statement, probably not._

***

Question 16-17

Hux was running late. This didn’t happen often, but his love of sleep did occasionally stop his alarms from being useful. While Hux was usually so early that being late for him still put him into the classroom five minutes before the professor, it did mean that he was left without breakfast. His stomached rumbled all through class, and he blushed up to his ears whenever it did.

“Cheesy bread?” Ben suggested while they packed up their stuff after class.

“Yes, I suppose.”

The cheesy bread came from the tiny on campus Pizza Hut in the Student Union. The cheese was thick, greasy, and surprisingly delicious. Hux realized he should have taken Ben up on his offer sooner.

“Good?” Ben asked him, wiping his chin with his sleeve.

“Delicious,” Hux answered.

Ben’s knees were brushing against his under the table again. He wasn’t sure if it was altogether necessary, but he didn’t try to stop it from happening.

Hux had been an overly cuddley person ever since he was a kid. This is probably due to the fact that he spent most of his early childhood sitting in his mother’s lap. His father didn’t like it when he made a mess playing with toys, so he began to find entertainment in his mother’s conversations with other rich women. He would sit in her lap, all the women talking about how he was the cutest thing for a moment before getting back to their gossip.

Going to an all boys secondary school had quickly taught him to control his touchy inclinations. Any idea that people could touch outside of the realm of sports was practically forbidden, leaving Hux both with a pretty decent soccer ability as well as a logical inclination to avoid physical affection.

It was just knees, however. Yet for Hux, the knees reminded him that he wanted more, and that he hadn’t had more in quite some time. He thought about texting Dopheld, but his fingers were too greasy for the screen.

“So is the book your movie is based on really well known?” Ben asked, his mouth full.

“Yes.”

“But is the movie very well known?”

“Not particularly.”

Hux managed not to text Dopheld that night, but not to stop thinking about him.

***

Question 18

Ben hadn’t made it to trivia that night. Apparently he had some big story he had to turn in for workshop the next day. Hux missed him and his stupid long hair.

On Thursday during class Ben slid him a note.

_My brain knows that this is YA so it can’t be right, but the story itself isn’t YA, so maybe you were just trying to throw me off. Anyway, I can’t shake this. Is it Another Cinderella Story starring Selena Gomez? Personally I can’t see how you would pick Selena over Hillary, but the Hillary Duff one is well known so that wouldn’t fit._

Hux had to force himself not to laugh.

_No. Two questions left. Seems Ill probably be free of your family Thanksgiving._

Ben crumpled up the piece of paper. It was down to the wire.

***

Question 19-20

 _I have my last 2 guesses. Im nervous._ Ben texted the next Monday.

 _Go for it._ Hux answered.

_No way, I want to celebrate my victory or cry over my defeat in person. Coffee?_

_Can’t this wait until tomorrow?_

_break starts wednesday, which means we leave tomorrow. im sure you’d rather not be rushed to pack._

Hux hadn’t realized the month had gone by so quickly. It was just Halloween and now it felt like they were encroaching on Christmas.

_Coffee it is then. I get out of class at four._

They met at the Starbucks on campus. The wind had been blowing hard that day, which mean Ben had pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Most long haired men looked better with their hair pulled back, but for Ben it mean revealing his big ears in full. Hux didn’t mind. What was lost in the exposure of his ears was made up for in the exposure of his neck.

The barista wrote ‘Hugs’ on the cup instead of Hux, but it couldn’t be helped. Neither Armitage nor Hux were particularly good names when it came to purchasing coffee.

“You’re so lucky to be named Ben,” Hux said when they sat down, pointing to his name on the cup. Ben laughed.

“Yeah, I wish I would have known that sooner. In seventh grade I decided I hated my name and tried to get everyone to call me Kylo Ren.”

“That’s awful. Where did you even come up with that?”

“Kylo was the letters on my dad’s license plate, but it didn’t sound cool enough, so I added the Ren, which was close enough to Ben that people accepted it.”

“So people really called you that?”

“On occasion.”

“My mum sometimes calls me Armie,” Hux said. He didn’t tell a lot of people that. If Phasma knew she would certainly try to call him that. Hux figured, however, that Kylo Ren gave him enough leverage in case Ben tried to call him anything other than Hux.

“She sounds brave. I think you’d murder anyone who tried to call you that here.”

“Yeah, well she’s my mum, she can call me whatever she wants really.”

“Did your dad call you Armitage?” Ben asked. He knew Hux’ name from their professor calling for attendance every day.

“My dad mostly called me ‘boy’.”

“Yeah, my dad goes with ‘bud’ more than anything else.”

The warmth of their coffee felt nice on such a windy day. The friendliness, the sight of Ben’s adorable ears, the coffee, and Ben’s knee always against his seemed to heat Hux from the inside outward. This is why he had never said yes to Ben before. As soon as he felt that feeling of warmth he was greedy for more of it.

“Anyway,” Ben said after a long sip of his drink, “Back to the matter at hand.” Ben, for all of his supposed love of Starbucks had just ended up getting a hot chocolate like and overgrown child.

“Right, yes, lets hear your guesses.”

“Ok. First off, Fried Green Tomatoes.”

“Oh god no. Crying at movies is fine, but that one is just depressing.”

Ben slumped slightly. He only had one shot left. At this point Hux knew that he probably wasn’t actually going to stop Ben from sitting next to him in class, but Ben didn’t know that.

“Ok,” he said after a long breath, “Last chance. is it The—“

“Hey Hux! Almost didn’t see you there.”

Hux jaw tightened and he sat up a little straighter. His fingers clenched around his cup of coffee before he could bring himself to smile and turn to Dopheld.

“Good to see you,” Hux said. His voice was chipper and convincing, even if his posture gave him away.

“This your boyfriend?” Dopheld asked.

“No, just a friend,” Hux was racking his mind for something to say that would make Dopheld leave, but it wasn’t functioning properly.

“Good call,” Dopheld said, “The ears seem like a bit much for your taste.” Ben frowned, reaching to pull his hair out of his ponytail. Hux kicked him under the table, hoping he’d get the message of _don’t listen to him_. Ben lowered his hand.

“So you all alone for Thanksgiving then?” Dopheld continued, “I actually have to stay in the area to work Black Friday. Maybe we can catch up.” Dopheld was smiling and Hux hated it.

“I can’t, actually,” Hux found himself saying, “I’m going home with my friend for Thanksgiving.”


	6. Chapter 6

When Hux stirred from a short and disappointing nap, he had hoped to open his eyes and find himself sitting upright in his desk chair, having snoozed accidentally while working on an essay. However, his eyes found the dark vinyl of the driver seat in front of him instead. He closed his eyes again immediately, trying to wish himself out of the car, but there seemed to be no helping it.

It was Hux’ own fault. That morning after class Ben had assured him that he didn’t really have to go to Thanksgiving just because that was what he had told Dopheld. Hux, as noble as ever, had assured Ben that he was the sort of man who kept his word. In actuality, the trip was more to avoid temptation. If Hux was back in his apartment, alone, all his possible friends gone for holiday, he knew that his phone would be there, eagerly asking him to call Mitaka. There was little to no possibility of that happening in the Solo household.

He kept his eyes closed, hoping to fall back asleep. The drive was a couple hours, which wasn’t terrible but long car rides always made Hux sleepy.

“I still can’t believe you got Hux to come,” Rey said. She was driving, with Ben sitting with his legs propped up in the passenger seat.

“Oh believe me, I can’t either,” Ben replied, “I think his ex-boyfriend had more to do with it than I did. He still hasn’t even told me his favorite movie.” Hux tried his best to stay quiet and keep his face from twitching in reaction. He just wanted to be asleep and not thinking about Dopheld.

“You lucked out.”

“I mean, not really. I think I’d prefer Hux never having to deal with that weird smarmy guy over him going to Thanksgiving with us,” Ben answered. It was a strange sentiment, but noble enough.

“Oh you got it bad then,” Rey said, grinning, “You managed to trick a cute boy into coming home with you and yet all you want is for him to be happy. This I not the Ben I’m use to.”

“Well if I really wanted him to be happy then I would have found a way to stay behind instead of having him go through the torture that is our family,” Ben answered. It made Hux nervous. “I really just hate how he still receives pain from the past. It’s not fair, you know?”

“Ben, no matter how many times you talk about your hatred of the past Aunt Leia is still not going to forgive you for burning all your middle school photos.”

“But I’m _right_ Rey. If there’s anything to be learned from Hux’ situation it’s that we need to live in our present and not worry about how our short hair used to expose our ears too much.”

Rey responded by turning up the music.

***

Hux had drifted back to sleep, only to be woken by Ben’s hand on his shoulder and a little whisper of “We’re here.”

He yawned, squeaking as he tried to stretch out. Before he could even unbuckle his door was being opened for him. His eyes widened slightly, making contact with the woman holding the door ajar. She was undoubtedly short, but her presence seemed grander than her height. Her hair was pulled back into a french twist, with her lips smiling in a way that seemed both sweet and firm.

“Armitage, it’s so good to meet you,” she said, practically pulling him out of the car. He started to respond with a quick “Thank you Mrs. Solo, but actually its Hux,” but before he had got more than a few syllables out she already had moved around the car to pull Ben into an almost painful looking hug. Hux couldn’t help but notice how big Ben’s smile was.

Hux, feeling awkward, wanted to make himself useful. He turned to start getting their bags out of the trunk, but a rather handsome older man, presumably Mr. Solo, was already there.

“Oh I can grab my own stuff,” Hux said, reaching for his bad. Mr. Solo, however, managed to change the reach into a handshake.

“No can do Hux,” was his response, “Leia will kill me if I let you carry your own things. You’re our guest.”

“Mr. Solo, really—“

“Oh god, please call me Han,” he answered, “Now, uh, should I take your stuff to Ben’s room? Or the guest room?”

Hux was suddenly mortified. Not only was he trapped at a barely friend’s house during a holiday he didn’t even celebrate, but now, apparently, Ben’s parents thought they were _dating_. They at least suspected it. Hux wasn’t sure why he had been under the impression that friends could go to each other’s family holidays, but it had seemed plausible before. Now he was struck with the reality of Ben Solo bringing him home to meet the family. Hux should have come more prepared.

The question itself, though only having two options, seemed complicated to Hux. For him, having a boy stay in his room was indicative of childhood sleepovers, whereas after he had comes out to his parents boys were practically banned from his bedroom, no matter for sleeping or just studying. Where his own household would consider separate rooms to be more indicative of dating, he thought there was a good chance that would be different here.

“Uh, the guest room?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as such a question, but his brain didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter.

“Good choice,” Ben said over his shoulder. He was already starting towards the house, arm in arm with his mother. “They gave the guest bedroom the good mattress. I’m still bitter.”

***

Hux was immediately trapped in the guest room. They had got back late, certainly late enough to go to sleep, but he could hear Ben and his mother downstairs in the kitchen. He couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but it all seemed very fast and warm. Hux thought he was close with his own mother, but seeing Ben with Mrs. Solo was something much stronger. The distance that parenthood normally presented seemed to diminish in the case of the Solos.

Their late night chats did not seem like something Hux was necessarily invited to. Being left to stew in the solitude of the guest room was not ideal, but it certainly was better than intruding.

He changed into pajamas, figuring sleep was the best option, before setting to work rearranging the bed. Hux was happy to find a quilt as the top layer, setting it aside before tossing the comforter over the side of the bed. He tested the firmness of the pillows, before choosing one that seemed pliable and shifting it to the foot of the bed. From his own bags he got his stuffed animal elephant that he got from the zoo when he was a kid. Normally he could go without it, but in new places it was better safe than sorry.

When he was in secondary school all the kids accused him of being gay, and his lack of denial was enough to prove their credibility. He never had to come out to anyone, save his parents who wanted him to be straight more than they actually believed that he was. The fact that everyone knew certainly didn’t make it any easier. Outright bullying wasn’t so much of a factor, but there was always having to wait to go into the locker room for football and the distinct lack of friends. Hux always felt just tolerated.

One day, however, after a rather grueling practice match, one of his teammates—one of the actually decent players—invited himself over to Hux house. Hux could remember distinctly his head at the foot of his bed, memorizing the pattern of the popcorn ceiling, while his teammate anxiously twisted the comforter in his hand.

“Listen I don’t... I don’t like you,” the teammate began, “I just... I wanted you to know. That I’m... I’m on your team too.”

“What?” Hux didn’t even bother to sit up. The possibility of what his teammate might have meant hadn’t struck him.

“I... I have a boyfriend. Doesn’t go to our school. He’s nice.”

“Oh.”

It had just been the syllable because he couldn’t quite get his emotions into word yet. What Hux felt in that moment, more than anything else, was _normal_. It wasn’t like they were suddenly best friends, but they did hang out a few times after. Hux would beat him at video games while they talked about David Beckham’s fine arse. In the end Hux found that sleeping in his strange way reminded him that he wasn’t alone, although he often felt it.

***

It was two am. Hux still hadn’t been able to fall asleep. He tried readjusting the pillow, some sleepy time Spotify playlist, and even counting sheep, but none of it worked. The later it got the more stressed he became, which meant the harder it was to sleep. His chest felt heavy as he tried to think of a solution.

Finally his eyes settled on his phone. Dopheld would understand. He never had trouble sleeping when they shared a bed, and when they were apart Dopheld would just text Hux until he was lulled into sleep. That sounded nice to Hux. It was late, and he couldn’t stop himself.

_Hey. I miss you._

He almost deleted it, almost didn’t press send, but it was like his fingers were acting on their own accord. Sent. No turning back.

_Miss you too. Already at your friends house?_

Everything in Hux’ brain was shouting “Stop!”, “Abort!”, “There’s still time to turn back!” but he couldn’t bring himself to listen.

_Yeah. Wish I was at yours._

_oh yeah? Why’s that?_

Dopheld had added a cat emoji to that one. He had always used the cat emoji. It was one of the things that had endeared Hux to him. It made him silly, approachable, and a clear cat lover, which was the most important trait in Hux’ eyes.

_want to sleep. your bed is comfy._

_You’re always welcome._ Dopheld wrote, then added _sorry you can’t sleep though. I can keep talking until you fall asleep?_

_sounds nice._

Which was how Hux fell asleep at three in the morning, his thumbs still ghosting over the keyboard, one illegible and unfinished reply never sent.

***

It was almost ten when he woke up and the entire house smelled like bacon. That was something worth getting out of bed for. He got up, threw on some jeans with a cream sweater, brushed his teeth, and headed downstairs.

In the light of day without the grogginess of a long car ride he could actually see the house. Most of the house was painted a standard HGTV sort of grey, but you couldn’t almost see it under shelves of knick knacks, paintings, and tapestries. The features of the house seemed modern, updated, fresh, while the decorations were the sort of antiques and art of something well loved and well traveled.

In the kitchen there was shiplap, subway tile backslash, and a reclaimed wood board burned to say “love you to the moon and back” in big scrolling letters. Mrs. Solo was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, Ben’s head was ducked into the fridge, and Han was at the stove, cooking in a “#1 Dad” apron.

“Morning sleepy,” Ben said, turning with a smile. He had apparently located the specific flavor of creamer he had been looked for, and dumped enough into it to outweigh the amount of actual coffee. “I like that sweater. I’m not used to seeing you in anything but black and grey.”

“Thanks...” Hux was overwhelmed with the fact that he didn’t know where to sit or what to do.

“Coffee?” Ben asked.

“I’d love some,” Hux answered.

“Perfect. You sit, I’ll get it for you.”

Hux took his advice, sitting only somewhat uneasily across from Mrs. Solo. “Just please don’t drown my coffee in creamer like you did yours.”

Han grunted out a chuckle from the other side of the kitchen.

“So, Armitage, you’re an English major as well?” Mrs. Solo asked. He wanted to correct her on his name, but he had too much fear.

“Yes.”

“Creative Writing?”

“No, I’m a literature major.”

“The boring major,” Ben said, setting a mug in front of Hux before sitting beside him. It was bright yellow and covered in Shakespeare quotes.

“Only boring if you don’t like to read,” Hux said, taking a sip of his coffee. Even without cream it was overly sweet.

“I like to read but I don’t need to write ten pages on filial relationships in JRR Tolkien to prove it.”

“Well I would think as a writer you would want people having an active and ongoing conversation on your work, which is what literary analysis is.”

“A conversation doesn’t take place on paper,” Ben retorted. Hux could see Mrs. Solo smiling as she drank her coffee.

“It does when the argument is well formed and when the participants aren’t all there. The ability to continue conversations through essays allows the long dead critics to continue to speak, the one silenced to be uncovered, and the up and coming to find their voice in an argument that may have been going on for upwards of a century.”

“See but focusing on these old dead dudes is making you live in the past, and you can’t repeat the past.”

“On the contrary,” Hux said “It is allowing these ‘old dudes’ to live in the present, so that we might give them their fair accolades or censure.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ben mumbled, seeing his loss.

“Bacons ready,” Han said, setting down a plate stacked high with greasy crispy bacon. Hux gathered that it was served as an appetizer, ready to be munched on while they awaited the main breakfast course. By the time Hux had picked out a piece to munch on Ben had already crammed two into his mouth.

“Oh, before I forget,” Mrs. Solo said, waving around her piece of bacon slightly, “You didn’t want to make anything for Thanksgiving dinner, did you Armitage?”

Hux nearly choked on his bacon. What the hell was he supposed to say? It seemed rude to say that she was correct—that he would eat all of their turkey and give nothing back—but it wasn’t his fault he was here. He hadn’t invited himself.

“I already recruited him to help me with the potatoes. And the croissants. Oh and the asparagus. Did I tell you I wanted to make asparagus this year?” Ben said, his mouth still full of bacon.

“Yeah, I’m not much of a cook but my assistant work is top notch,” Hux added.

Ben and Mrs. Solo went on to make an extensive grocery list while Hux sat, munching bacon and sipping his too sweet coffee. He was in the midst of wondering why they would need so much sour cream when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

_hope your morning is ok. miss you._

_It’s not terrible. The bacon is good._

“Hux, how do you like your eggs?” Han asked from across the room. Hux couldn’t help but jump slightly. It felt like he had been caught.

“Uhh... sunny side up.”

***

Ben was a basement dweller. What he gained in floor space from living underground was countered by the dark and the cold. The floor was barely visible anyhow, making anyone who stepped foot in the room leap to their desired location, making strategic moves to find little spaces of carpet. The walls, however, seemed well taken care of. Though covered in posters—bands and Star Trek alike—they all seemed to be thoughtfully placed, arranged so that they lined up precisely with their neighbors. His bed was also kept neat, made up with a plethora of pillows.

Hux was curled up in a black plaid throw blanket, perched precariously on the edge of the aforementioned bed. Ben sat up against the headboard, legs pulled up, with Rey sitting half on the bed, her torso leaning over the side, upside down, texting.

“I just don’t understand her,” Rey complained, “Phasma likes me. I know that, she knows that, you all know that, but for some reason she won’t ask me out.”

“Did I know that?” Ben asked.

“Everyone knows it. It’s not like she tries to hide it, right Hux?”

“Hmm?” he said, looking up from his own phone. He had been typing a response to Dopheld. _Yeah, Ben is Rey’s cousin so we’re all hanging out._

“Stop texting and listen to me complain about your best friend who is obviously in love with me,” Rey answered.

“I definitely didn’t know that you knew that,” Hux responded.

“Oh come on, she’s such an obvious flirt,” Rey said.

“Well yeah,” Ben said, stretching his legs out until they hit against Hux, “But you’re the only girl I’ve seen her interact with. I thought she was probably just flirty by nature.” His toes were wiggling, trying to snake their way underneath Hux’ blanket as he talked. Hux didn’t notice. Dopheld had responded with _oh I didn’t realize they were related. is that how you met ben?_ leaving Hux fully engrossed in writing his response.

“I mean, she is flirty, but I can tell the difference,” Rey replied, “She likes me.”

“Then why don’t you just ask her out?” Ben asked. He might have been talking to Rey, but his eyes were focused on Hux, who was typing out _yeah, Rey brought him to bar trivia._ Hux was conveniently leaving out the party bit. It didn’t count.

Dopheld knew about bar trivia night. It was fairly early in his and Phasma’s escapades to bar trivia, Finn only just recruited, when Dopheld had turned up at the same bar, a date in tow. He had said hi to Hux, touched his shoulder, and introduced him to his date. This lead to Hux downing several drinks, calling Dopheld on the way home to tell him how ugly the date had been, and scream sobbing in Phasma’s bed until she got him to breathe steady by playing meditation videos.

“I can’t just ask her out,” Rey said, “This is Phasma. She’s.... strategic. If she wanted to go out with me, she would have asked. So the question is, why, if she has a crush on me, does she not want to actually go out with me?”

There was a moments pause. Hux was still waiting for a response from Dopheld. Ben was watching him. Neither of them noticed when Rey pulled herself onto the bed properly, grabbed a pillow and, hit Hux as hard as she could.

“Ow! What the fu—“

“Who are you texting?” Rey demanded.

“Phasma, geese.”

“No you’re not,” she counter, “Because _I’m_ texting Phasma and she said you haven’t told her any updates yet. So you’re not texting Phasma. And you lied. Which means you’re texting Mitaka which means you need to give me your phone.”

“I’m an adult! I don’t have to do anything,” Hux replied, “And anyway, he’s being friendly. It’s fine. I’ve got this under control.”

“Friendly?” Rey answered, “He’s not your friend Hux. I’m your friend. He’s the asshole who cheated on you. Now give up the phone.”

“Phasma’s not here,” Hux replied, “You don’t have to pretend to cared to get into her good graces.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, “After all this time you really think that I just tolerate you to get to a girl? That’s fucking ridiculous. You’re my friend. You’re supposed to be at least.”

Hux wanted to say he didn’t mean that. He wanted to tell her they were friends, he had misspoke. He wanted to let her know that he was just tired and stressed and a little embarrassed to be caught texting Dopheld and more than a little upset to be reminded that he was cheated on. Rey, however, had already walked, maybe stomped, up the stairs.

Ben just looked at him. Concerned? Apologetic? Curious? His face was a mixture of all of those emotions, but he was silent. Well, at least until Hux’s phone lit up. A reminder.

“You know, that’s probably why Phasma doesn’t want to date Rey,” Ben said, gesturing to the phone. Hux tried to ignore him, and ignore the message as well, slumping further into the blanket. “It’s like a sort of armor. She won’t date her because she doesn’t want to ever be her ex. It’s not a bad strategy.

Hux shrugged, not answering, not liking the accusation. He didn’t want to be the reason Phasma couldn’t be happy.

“...”

“...”

“Why do you still text him?”

“Why did you get kicked out of your last apartment?”

Ben sighed, the conversation ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was long awaited and.... not worth the wait. Sorry. I knew what I wanted to do but not how to get there. Don’t worry, Thanksgiving will spice up soon!
> 
> ps the skywalker and solo families are practically neighbors, that’s why Rey drove them all, but she doesn’t live with them or anything 
> 
> pps it makes more sense for the pov to call Leia Mrs Solo but I hate it and she also would hate it but hey Hux doesn’t know wtf to call anyone


	7. Chapter 7

It was past midnight. Hux found himself going down the stairs to the basement, clutching his laptop. He had tried to go to bed at 10:30 when Mrs. Solo had finally gotten tired of watching House Hunters, but he had just ended up staring at the ceiling, restless. His phone was in the kitchen, the idea being that if he couldn’t get to it he wouldn’t have the Dopheld problem, but after fifteen minutes he had begun regretting the lack of music it could play to help him fall asleep.

Hux barely knocked before pushing the door to Ben’s room open.

“Ben? You up?”

Hux heard a groan, followed by the sound of head hitting head board. A curse, the rustle of blanket, and then: “If you dare turn those lights on I will kill you Hux.”

“Roger that. ...Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Ben replied. It was dark, but Hux’s eyes were adjusting. He could just barely make out Ben getting out of bed and reaching down to grab something off the floor. It was only when Ben started pulling on a pair of sweatpants did Hux realize that he had just been in boxers before. Even in the dark Hux could tell that Ben Solo was shredded.

“Is everything ok?” Ben asked, pulling on a T-shirt, “Do you need something?”

“No,” Hux said, “I just couldn’t sleep.” He was still rooted to his spot, just inside the doorway. This was partially because he was embarrassed—when he had started on this mission to Ben’s room he never expected to actually make it all the way without turning back—and partially because he didn’t know a safe route through the mess. It was more difficult to make out the beige of the carpet with the lights off.

“So you thought that I’d be so boring that you’d fall asleep immediately?”

“No... I thought maybe you’d want to watch my favorite movie with me,” Hux answered, “Brought my laptop.” He waved it around slightly, not that Ben was looking anymore. Ben was instead nudging things on the floor, clearing a path.

“God, yeah, perfect.” Hux felt it was a strange response to just wanting to watch a movie, but he let it slide. Ben had finished the path and planted himself back on the bed, close to the wall. He was under a fluffy throw blanket, leaving the comforter for Hux to have to himself. It seemed like sharing was out of the question.

Hux made his way over, sitting cross legged on the edge of the bed, opening up the laptop. “Can you plug this in?” he asked, handing Ben the chord. Hux tried not to notice the way Ben bit his lip as he reached down beside the bed for the outlet. Theoretically Hux was focused on pulling up the movie, and definitely not on scheming a proper way to see Ben with his shirt off.

“Any final guesses before it starts?” Hux asked.

“High School Musical 2,” Ben answered. Hux was momentarily appalled, which seemed to please Ben. “You make it too fun to rile you up you know. Your nose does this little twitch, like a mouse. It’s cute.”

“You guys didn’t seem to be having fun riling me up earlier today,” Hux responded. After Rey had left things had gone mostly quiet—boring—just tv and trying to get some reading done for school, but the mundaneness of it left him time to stew. Part of the time he was angry at Rey for being so unempathetic, or at Ben for blaming him for Phasma’s failing romantic skills, but most of the time he just felt shame. A good chunk of the shame was dedicated to his rudeness to Rey, who really was his good friend at this point, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit that his greatest regret was getting caught. Hux didn’t like looking weak, and his messaging with Dopheld certainly appeared that way.

“That was your own fault,” Ben mumbled, “Rey needed your help with Phasma, and instead she had to babysit you, and then on top of that you were kind of bratty. Like, don’t get me wrong, I think she was kind of...blunt, which probably hurt, but ultimately, you know, you riled yourself up.”

“I was flustered,” Hux said before adding, “And I’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

“Good, she’ll appreciate it,” Ben replied, “And you know, maybe try forgiving yourself. Or whatever.”

“You did not just say that.”

Ben sighed. It was a long, dramatic affair. He put all of his shoulders into it, and his breath was enough to rustle his hair. “I just mean,” he started, “That you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Making yourself feel bad doesn’t help anything.”

“Please don’t make me think about this anymore. Can I just start the movie?”

Ben nodded and Hux hit play, situating the laptop between them and sitting back against the pillows. Ben’s pillows were overly fluffy, making Hux feel like he was melting back into them.

“This movie is seriously called _Bride_ and Prejudice? I was really that close and you couldn’t give me a hint?”

Ben asked. His arms were crossed over his chest, his chin sinking in between his collarbone as he stared down at the screen.

“You should have asked ‘is it a variation on Pride and Prejudice?’ Honestly you weren’t clear at all. You could have meant the Keira Knightley version or the 2003 modernization, which would have been confusing. With a variation, ruling out non movies like the mini series and Lizzie Bennet Diaries, you would just have Keira, the modernization, Bridget Jones, Austenland—“

“Pride and Prejudice and Zombies,” Ben added.

“Yes, that too. And you would have a concrete and relatively short list of questions to follow and you would have gotten it right.”

“Did you read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies? Or is it beneath you?” Ben asked. It always seemed to Hux that Ben had selective hearing, only bothering to listen to himself.

“I didn’t read it, but I watched the movie. The first half was good, but their Darcy wasn’t hot enough. The proposal scene was great though.” Hux didn’t bother to tell him that he had seen the movie with Dolpheld. They had seen it for a date. Hux had gotten a crook in his neck from leaning into Dolpheld’s shoulder, but he hadn’t minded. It was a good movie, and Dolpheld has spoiled him with popcorn and a slushie that neither of them had really been able to afford on their college budget.

“You know why you actually liked it?” Ben asked, already snickering, “Matt Smith. You loooove the Doctor.”

If Hux hadn’t already seen Bride and Prejudice a thousand times he would try to shut Ben up. He hated people that talked over the movie. Of course, he was also a movie talker, but he gave opinions, commentary, and critique, which were all validated in his eyes. His own intellect was worth missing a line of dialogue or two. Ben, however, was just rambling over the opening, seemingly uninterested. It annoyed Hux, but Ben also knew exactly what to say in order to keep Hux talking.

“First of all, Matt Smith was a great Mr. Collins,” Hux began, “And secondly, it’s not fair of you to criticize the fact that I have seen Doctor Who, a show which most people have watched, when you have Star Trek posters and phone backgrounds and whatever.”

“Well sci-fi is what I do. It’s what I want to write when I graduate. You’re supposed to be a Shakespearean or a Victorianist or something sophisticated like that, so it’s funny. Like, you’re all prissy but you watch Doctor Who.”

Hux’s mind was saying _I’m not prissy! And actually I prefer to have mixed analysis, usually of gender and queer theory within classic Victorian works. The world is complex you idiot! I can love Jane Eyre and Doctor Who. And I’m not prissy..._

What he actually said, nose still bunched up in annoyance, was “You write sci-fi?” It was, Hux imagined, a side effect of staring at Ben’s hair for too long. Even when he was angry the interest seemed to take over.

“Yeah, I love it. I love sci-fi and popular fiction in general because it gives you so much more room for your writing to be, like, about stuff. That’s what’s so great about Star Trek—it takes these fun characters and puts them on this mission, and every episode is _about_ something, like creation or bodily autonomy or nazis being evil.”

Some people say that when others talk about what they’re passionate about their eyes light up. Hux, didn’t observe that when it came to Ben. With Ben he could tell his excitement by watching his long arms wave about in large, quick gestures.

“You’ll have to let me read something you wrote,” Hux said. He was smiling.

“Ah, no way, it’s all shit.”

“It can’t be that ba—“

“Are they _singing_?” Ben asked, eyes now fixed on the laptop screen, “Oh my god. Your favorite movie is Bollywood Pride and Prejudice.”

“Yes, and it’s a very well done, upbeat, postcolonial take on a classic British story. The Darcy is awful but everything else checks out ok.”

“This is going to be incredible.”

With that, Ben’s conversation quickly changed from talking over the movie to talking about it. Hux relished the opportunity to give someone new his analysis of the film (“‘No Life Without Wife’ is such a clever song because it mirrors Darcy’s list of qualities in the perfect woman.”) and see someone new react to the classic gospel choir on the beach song (“Hux... is that a fucking gospel choir singing while they make out on the beach!?”).

“Oh shit, is that the director of Bend It Like Beckham?” Ben asked, sitting up a little as the credits started playing.

“Gurrinder Chadha? Yeah, she ends a couple of her movies this way.”

“I should have known it was her. It’s got her humor,” Ben said, turning on his side and propping his head into his elbow, “I used to watch Bend It Like Beckham all the time with my Gran. She and my Grandad babysat me a lot—mom wanted Uncle Luke too but he couldn’t stand my tantrums—and Gran was convinced that she was the spitting image of Keira Knightley when she was younger, so we watched and rewatched all of her movies. Pirates was my favorite, but Bend It Like Beckham was a close second.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who liked their grandparents before. Is it just a British thing?” Hux asked, then corrected himself “No, right, just a gay thing.”

Ben laughed. “Yeah, well they were always cool with Uncle Luke being gay, so that’s sort of a non-issue. Plus I was always their favorite, so I could have destroyed a whole planet and they would have been cool.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, well I was always a problem child. Dad traveled for work all the time, and Mom was the superintendent of our school, so she was always busy with meetings and things, so I was always lashing out. And my parents and Luke and everyone wanted me to not be so angry all the time, but Grandad let me be angry. He didn’t want me to bottle it all up. There was this whole year where he would pick me up from some school and take me to Tae Kwon Do lessons even though mom had said I wasn’t allowed to.”

“Your mum must have been pissed when she found out,” Hux said. He couldn’t picture Ben as a little kid doing Tae Kwon Do. An angsty teen, sure, but there was no way this gangly giant could have existed before the age of 13. Trying to imagine his huge nose and ears on a child sized head was even more comical.

“Yeah, totally. Didn’t let Grandad watch me again for a while. I hardly even saw him much until he got sick. Definitely didn’t help the whole anger thing.”

Even in the dark, fresh from the laptop screen going black, Hux could make out the fog going over Ben’s eyes. Instead of making energetic contact with Hux’s, they were instead floating around the ceiling, making out the bumps of the popcorn ceiling.

“I’m sorry—“

“That’s why I got kicked out of my old apartment. The whole anger thing. My roommate accidentally broke my Star Trek beer mug, which admittedly are expensive, but anyway, they tried to hide it, and so when I found out I was so pissed.”

“As you deserved to be.”

“Right, I guess. But like, I don’t know, I was so mad, and my roommate was like ‘This is why I had to hide it. I knew you would get so mad.’ Which is such a stupid thing to say, and the more they talked the angrier I felt, and I just kept thinking _Calm down Ben. It’s fine. It’s just a mug. Remember, Grandad says you can be angry but you can’t hurt anyone._ So instead I just.... punched a hole in the wall.”

“Honestly they deserved it,” Hux said, “What kind of asshole breaks someone’s shit and doesn’t tell them?”

“The kind of asshole that is willing to room with me. Literally no one wants to be my roommate. Rey wouldn’t even be able to put up with me.”

“Dopheld and I were going to room together,” Hux said, sinking down further under the covers. It was his turn to stare at the ceiling, feeling Ben’s eyes on him.

“Oh yeah?” Ben answered, an invitation to say more.

“Yeah. We started dating pretty early my freshman year. He was my first real relationship. And... and we had gone through a lot. I mean, I was living in a foreign country, so having someone to rely on was really important. And then when my dad died... well he was the person that was there for me.”

When he talked about his dad, he had to take a second, remember to breathe. He never liked talking about it. Hux had always hated his dad. Brendol Hux had no likable qualities. He was pompous, conservative, hypermasculine, prejudiced, and all the worst parts of humanity. That didn’t seem to make him dying any easier for Hux. His mind’s constant mantra of “good riddance” only served as a a constant question of his own morality. Was he allowed to feel relief that someone had died? Of course, that relief was near nonexistent with the morality crisis that came with it, but the idea of relief was still there. Even after death Brendol was able to give Hux this overbearing sense of dread.

Still, Hux managed to continue. “So this past summer we were going to move in together. We had signed the lease and everything. But before we even finished the school year I walked in on him and this girl from his business class.”

“No,” Ben said, though it came out more as a gasp than actual words, “You were dating this dude for basically two years and he cheats on you?”

“Yeah... God it was awful. I was so... sure of us. And then when that happened I thought that I had done something wrong, so when summertime came, against Phasma’s better judgement, I told him we should still move in together, thinking we should try to work things out.”

“The toothbrush,” Ben interrupted.

“Yeah... He only stayed there for three weeks before he got bored of me again.”

“Don’t know how he could possibly do that,” Ben replied, “You’re so interesting. And you have a cool accent. You could do a lecture about Wuthering Heights and I wouldn’t even fall asleep.”

“As you shouldn’t!” Hux said, turning to glare at Ben, “Wuthering Heights is a beautifully crafted novel that really shows the problem with stagnation in ones own emotions—“

“See, that sounds so much prettier coming from you than from my high school Lang and Comp teacher.” Ben was grinning, his stupid large teeth barely visible. Hux felt like every time Ben smiled it was at his own expense, and yet somehow he didn’t mind so much when they were laying there in the dark. It seemed that Hux’s laptop—locked between his and Ben’s knees—was the only thing keeping Hux from shuffling closer to his friend.

“You know, you’re not much taller than me,” Hux found himself saying. It wasn’t an adequate reply to the conversation, but it’s what his mouth had chosen to say.

“What?”

“I feel like everyone thinks you’re so fucking tall, but you’re probably only a centimeter or two taller than me. It’s just that you’re completely made of torso, so when we sit down you’re a giant compared to me, who is primarily legs. It’s not fair. We’re the same height.”

Ben had lost it somewhere around “made of torso”, laughing so hard that his knees scrunched up towards his chest. His laughter, Hux figured, had more to do with the fact that it was almost three in the morning, and less to do with what Hux had said. Hux, in turn, couldn’t help but catch the giggles, snickering along with Ben’s booming laugh. Ben reached out, swatting at Hux’s arm while he laughed, until finally just deciding to grab it, squeezing slightly.

“Hux, you’re so stupid,” Ben finally managed to say, still laughing between breaths, “No one has ever thought you were short.”

“Phasma does!” Hux replied, managing to work past the laughter, and now attempting to ignore Ben’s hand.

“Phasma is a fucking giant that wears heeled boots every day of her life.”

“That’s... not incorrect.”

Hux found himself liking talking to Ben. Before, most of his enjoyment with Ben came from looking at him rather than talking, but with the lights off, with conversation as the easier option, he discovered that he didn’t hate the way Ben teased him about stuff, or got excited about things that Hux didn’t think mattered. He thought—tried to make himself think—it was just like sharing a bed with Phasma. Talking until all hours of the night, about stuff that didn’t matter and stuff that really mattered. Laughing too loudly in a house where most people were asleep. Letting voices fade to silence, where he finally thought he was going to fall asleep, until one of them had an ingenious thought that they couldn’t keep to themselves, starting the brains up again. It was just like that, except with Ben... there was that undying urge to reach out and move that lap top. It felt magnetized.

It wasn’t until Leia was coming into the room the next morning, turning on the lights and talking about the parade, that Hux had even realized he had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How has it been a month already!? Sorry....... I can make excuses like “I was sick” but... really I’m just lazy. 
> 
> Hope all my readers love dialogue because if not then you certainly did not like this chapter. Whoops....


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I’ve been VERY slowly working on this chapter, and originally I was planning on having all of Thanksgiving Day in one section, but I realized that that might be too long of a wait (it’s already been a rather long one already!!) so I split off some of what I already had so that you wouldn’t end up with a 10,000 word chapter that you didn’t get until 2020. I hope you enjoy this Thanksgiving morning snippet! My goal is to have the next part done by actual Thanksgiving!

Leia was speaking, but Hux wasn’t paying her any attention. His full sleepy attention was focused on Ben’s back. Ben was sitting up, allowing Hux, still snuggled into a pillow, to fully appreciate his wide shoulders. Without a doubt, the best part of sharing a bed with someone, in Hux’s opinion at least, was snuggling his head in between their shoulder blades until he could only breath the laundry detergent smell of their T-shirt and nothing else. He had unfortunately missed out on that with Ben’s particularly impressive form because of that stupid laptop and his lack of determination.

Hux, when given even a small taste of something, would rather quickly decide that he wanted _more_. When his mother gave him his first cookie, he demanded another before he had even finished the first. When he got a kitten for his birthday, he tried to convince his family that little Millicent needed a friend. When he discovered the joy of kissing, he would make out with the straight boys at his academy because the lot of them just wanted more more more. Having now seen just a little bit of how nice it was to be close, both physically and relationally, with Ben, his brain couldn’t help but shout _more_.

The door closed and the bed adjusted. Hux, finally beginning to escape the grog of sleep, rubbed his eyes, but made no other motion to get up. Leia was gone, and Hux could heat Ben brushing his teeth in the attached bathroom. Hux rolled over, pulling his blanket over his head to block out the overhead lights. He didn’t want to go back to sleep; he wanted to go back in time, let the soft and giggly and deep and good conversation of the night prior happen all over again.

“Come on, get up,” Ben said. He had thankfully left the blanket over Hux’s face, finding forcefully shaking Hux’s shoulder to be more effective.

“Need sleep,” Hux groaned, burying himself further into the blanket.

“But the parade!”

“I thought Thanksgiving was just dinner,” Hux said, peeking his head out, “and that the Fourth of July had parades?”

“Nope.” Ben was grinning. It was cute and Hux hated him for it and simultaneously wanted to pull him on top of him. _More more more._ “The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade is the first step to the ultimate Thanksgiving.”

Hux sighed, accepting defeat and finally rolling out of bed.

***

“That is one huge Pikachu,” Hux said watching as the large yellow creature was carried across the TV screen. He had gone upstairs briefly to change into proper clothes (dark wash jeans, a powder blue button up, and egg shell sweater) and brush his teeth. Ben was sitting with his knees pulled up on the corner of the couch, still in the mismatched pajamas he had thrown on in the dark the night before.

“Yeah, you missed the Pillsbury Doughboy,” Ben answered, eyes still glued to the parade as Hux took the seat next to him. He could have—and normally would have—sat on the other end to take the leftover armrest, but his brain was still stuck on _more_

“How tragic.” A high school band was taking what seemed to be the designated performing spot. They seemed ok, but one of the colour guard girls very obviously dropped her flag. Hux felt bad for her. “So do they just pick schools at random for this?”

“I have no idea. All I know is that it was always my dream to go and we never did and I’m still crushed about it.”

“You were in marching band?”

“Oh I wasn’t just in marching band, I was the fucking drum major.” Ben was grinning at Hux, and he hated it. Just a week or two ago Hux absolutely hated Ben’s guts, and now here he was melting just because he saw the boy’s teeth.

“So you were the best at drums?” Hux answered, totally clueless. His school hadn’t had a marching band, nor was it particularly common in the rest of the country. He used to play the cello himself, but gave that up when he discovered he had no talent. The problem with being as critically minded as Hux was that the criticism often fell on himself.

“No stupid, I conducted. It’s sort of a big deal. For marching band that is.”

“Did you wear a funny hat and are there pictures?”

“First of all, I looked great in that hat, and secondly—“

“This brat didn’t let us take pictures of him when he was in high school,” Leia said from the kitchen where she was currently putting mac n cheese ingredients into a crock pot, “He was in the height of his ‘let the past die’ phase. The only pictures he got were from prom since his dates always insisted. They’re on the mantel in there if you want to see.”

Hux jumped up, racing Ben to the pictures. He was able to swoop in and grab them before Ben could, but was forced to hunch over in order to keep Ben from stealing it out of his grasp.

The pictures were, admittedly, bad. Ben’s rented tux was several sizes too large, a problem that no doubt came about from him being tall and broad shoulders, yet somehow incredibly lanky. His hair was some strange and flippy rendition of the traditional Justin Bieber cut, accentuating the size of his ears. His face was contorted more into a grimace than a smile, clearly uncomfortable with holding the waist of his prom date. She was pretty, and certainly out of High School Ben’s league.

“Haven’t changed much, have you Ben?” Hux asked replacing the photo on the mantle.

“Very funny,” Ben answered, “I’m sure your high school pictures don’t look much better.”

This was how Hux grew to regret letting Ben be his friend on Facebook the week before. In less than a minute Ben had managed to scroll back in his photos long enough to find pictures from secondary school. Hux had been unbelievably thin back then, like a normal sized person who had been put through the taffy puller from Willy Wonka. His hair was cut without style, and stuck out in strange directions. Ben also got a particular kick out of Hux’s pristine school uniform.

“You were cute,” Ben commented, grinning, “Like a weasel.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Hux replied, only mostly sarcastically. His ego still liked being called cute, no matter the backhanded addition it came with.

“You’re cuter now though,” Ben said. This didn’t feel much like a comment from Not Hot Ben who liked Star Trek and bothering people. This was definitely Hamlet Ben, who knew how to be charming. Hux would have preferred the former.

“Yes, well obviously. No one looks good in secondary school.”

When the parade ended, turning from Santa’s cheery wave into a dog show that no one seemed to want to watch nor turn off, Ben put Hux to work dicing potatoes. Hux was not particularly quick at his job, but it gave Ben time to prep the asparagus.

“So who all goes to Thanksgiving?” Hux asked.

“Well its all of us, and then it’s at Rey’s house so Rey and Uncle Luke and Uncle Chewie—“

“You have an uncle named _Chewie_?”

“Yeah, it’s short for Jesús. He’s from Mexico.”

“How is Chewie short for Jesús?”

“No idea, but it is,” Ben said as he put the asparagus into the oven, “How’s the potatoes coming?”

“Fine. I only have a handful more,” Hux answered, “So is that everyone then?”

“Oh no, of course not. There’s also Gran, and Uncle Lando, who is not really my uncle, and his partner Elle.”

“So enough people to make me nervous but not so many that I could fade into a crowd,” Hux said.

“Exactly,” Ben answered with a grin, “It wouldn’t be a family Thanksgiving without a general feeling of discomfort.”

Hux was feeling this discomfort in more ways than one. There was the general dread of family events, of the unknown, and of having to hug people that he would rather not hug, but on top of that was the lingering feeling left from the night before. That _I want more_ still persisting in the light, making Hux ever so slightly agitated every time Ben put his hand on Hux’s shoulder or smiled at him too adorably. Hux kept trying to remind himself that he didn’t even _like_ Ben, but his heart, the awful attention seeker that it was, kept demanding otherwise.


End file.
